The deafening blast rang in Maeve’s ears along with Penny’s screams. Smoke clouded the air.
“Lady Harlowe?” Dorset’s voice penetrated the ringing.
The smoke cleared and Maeve saw his concern. “Sebastian? It’s Penny, I think that blackguard broke her arm.” She handed Penny’s whimpering form off to him.Brandon. Maeve glanced around and saw Brandon next to Welton, checking him for a pulse, and the widow lying on her back. Maeve rushed to her side. “Caroline. You’re not dead.”
All blood had drained from her face and seemed to be coming from her chest. “Not yet,” she choked out. “Oh, Maevie. I have so many regrets.”
“No, darling. We shall save you. Mother will be beside herself…”
She gripped Maeve’s hand. It was a death’s grip. “No. You-you mustn’t tell her. She would never survive the scandal.”
“What happened? Why did you never come home?”
“I was fished out of the river by Jervis’s father. From that moment on, my life was never my own again. You mustn’t fret. This is for the best. I never meant for you to learn what I’d become.”
“Please, Caroline. You can’t die. Not like this.” Maeve’s tears flowed freely now.
“This is for the best, Maevie. I’m the one they’re looking for. I’m the one who created the Athenaeum Order. It was all mine for a very hefty fee.” But her sister’s hand slackened, and her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Maevie. It’s time. I love you.”
“No. No. No, Caroline, it’s not too late.”
But it was. She was dead.
Thirty-Nine
H
arlowe let himself in at Cavendish Square. He’d been gone for two days, recounting everything he could remember to the prime minister with Dorset at his side.
“Brandon?” Maeve stood at the top of the stairs.
He tossed his greatcoat on the entryway table, knocking the silver salvor askew and dashed all the way to the top. He swept his wife in his arms and kissed her long and deep. In an instant he was intoxicated by the priceless elixir known as Maeve Radcliff, Lady Harlowe. His wife.
“Tell me everything,” she said in a breathless rush.
“First things first,” he rasped out, taking her mouth once more.
He knew at once he’d never get enough of her. He swept her off her feet and took her to his chamber. Less likelihood of being interrupted. Just to be safe, he turned the lock and carried her to the bed. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
“Because I might run into some servant I don’t know,” she returned. “I’ve missed you.”
“Stop talking.” He had no patience for her dress. “How attached are you to this frock?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Do we still have a stack of banknotes in the safe?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can buy another.” He ripped it open from the bodice down. He fought with the corset, and in the end, it turned out to be as useless as her dress. The chemise floated across the room like a cloud. He took one nipple in his mouth and groaned. He worked his way down her belly to the apex of her thighs and breathed in a drug more powerful than laudanum. This was the addiction he craved. One he’d never be cured of. Grasping her legs to hold her in place, he licked, and suckled, and drove his tongue deep until she exploded in a keeling scream that was sure to send the household running. He tore the placket of his trousers open and slid into her fiery wet heat.
“I love you, Maeve. I’m sorry I trapped you into marrying me. But I didn’t dare give Dorset the slightest edge. The man is tenacious, and you belong to me.”
“You forget the most important argument, my love. I had the deciding vote. I was never going to choose Dorset over you. I realized long ago that you belonged to me as well.” She rolled on top of him; feathered kisses over his neck and chest. “Now, tell me everything.”
“It was Griston who hit me over the head. He likely thought he’d killed me, but Holks found me in a ditch beside the road and brought me to his home in Goldhanger.” He ran his fingers through her brilliant red locks, sending pins flying. “But he is in bedlam and the man is so far gone, he might as well be dead.”
“What of Shufflebottom?”
